h
jacket. That ain't you, any way."

"We live at Killochrie," Elsie said quickly and wickedly, not hesitating
to conceal the truth, and to tell a falsehood to do so. "We've come
farther than we should, and I wasn't quite sure of the way."

"Aweel! aweel!" the man said, in his slow northern fashion. "It's a good
thing ye're not lost away from your natural home, which I'd be sorry to
think of happening to any bairn. It's a goodish bit out of my road, but
I'd like to carry the poor bairnies back to their mother, wherever she
be."

Elsie waited to hear no more. She bade the man a hasty "Good-day," and
ran off. How strange it was that this out-of-the-way shepherd should
have heard the tale, and yet not so strange when one thinks how quickly
such a tale spreads far and near, and how few other concerns the
shepherd had to drive it from his mind. Already the news of the lost
children was being discussed in every whiskey-shop and cottage. It had
reached the little village three miles out of Killochrie, where the
shepherd's wife lived. And if the children had been elsewhere than in
the crofter's lonely cottage they must have been discovered, as there
was every chance that they would be before long.

Now, if Elsie had known it, the first piece of good fortune that had
really come to them was when she met the shepherd. He was an honest,
kind-hearted man, the father of children. At one word of explanation he
would have taken the children in charge, and delivered them safely over
to their proper guardian. Providence, watching over the misguided
children, had put this means of deliverance in their way. But Elsie was
still obstinate, and the very thought of being taken back roused every
feeling of opposition and anger.

If only poor little Duncan had known the opportunity, which was every
moment retreating farther away!

Elsie breathed freely when she perceived the shepherd disappear in the
valley. "We are all right," she said to Duncan, keeping to herself the
shock she had received. "This will lead us to Killochrie."

Duncan said nothing. He seemed neither glad nor sorry. He was not much
of a companion, Elsie thought.

The day crept on. They did not make much progress, for Duncan was cross,
and lagged dreadfully.

Elsie had in her mind a firm conviction that the kind lady would return,
and she was not wrong, for at last they saw a female figure coming
towards them; she carried a good-sized leather bag in her hand, which
El